


Pollen filters

by jadelennox



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Dirty Talk, Kink Meme, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-05
Updated: 2011-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:38:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadelennox/pseuds/jadelennox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shoved his fist into his mouth to stop the torrent of words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pollen filters

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/)  
>  This work by jadelennox is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/).

**Part one:**

I was hard and desperate for it already, but if I rushed this I would screw it up. Then it would be me and my hand alone again tonight. Well, no. Me and one of the senior escorts from Executive Priority, probably the new young employee who was perhaps hired primarily because of his ridiculous height and shock of dark hair.

Except not even that, because despite neither sharing nor understanding Harry's scruples about (a) prostitution or (b) monogamy, I had stopped availing myself of the perks of my position months ago. Picturing his appalled disappointment had put me entirely off my game, so right now it was Harry Dresden or nobody.

Which meant it was damn well going to be Harry Dresden.

I kept my kiss gentle as I could, just lips and the barest tip of my tongue, while my hand slid down from his lower back over the curve of his ass, perfect despite its boniness in those jeans. A sound escaped him, and I stopped, frozen with ridiculous nervousness. Was that the "oh my virtue, I'm letting a scumbag criminal touch me, I might just faint away of the vapours" whimper? Because comforting him past that panic always took a lot of caressing and soothing, and I _really_ did not have it in me tonight. I was marshaling my forces for argument when his right hand grabbed my ass and yanked me against his erection.

Oh, thank God. That had actually been his "I need to get laid sometime in the next 5 minutes" whimper.

I ground against him, my cock rubbing against his, pulling back only because I needed this to _last_ , dammit. "Bed," I said. "I need to fuck you right the hell now, Harry."

It amazed me that with all the things we'd been doing together, Harry still had the capacity to blush. He looked away from me, his lips pursing in that embarrassed way that just make me want to lick him. Of course, pretty much every facial expression he had made me want to lick him. Hell, I wanted to lick him when he was yelling " _Fuego_ " and destroying something I owned. Possibly I had a fetish for pyromaniac scarecrow wizards.

I got him down on the bed and stripped him naked. "I _am_ going to lick you all over," I said out loud as I pulled off my shirt and undershirt. I stripped off my trousers and plastered myself over his long, hot body. When I went for his mouth, Harry turned his face away. Should I try the earlobe? No. Nibbling on the neck got me a pleased shudder, but then he tilted his chin to make it harder for me to reach. I slid down his body and bit his nipples. _Ah._ His back arched and he moaned, reaching out with one scrabbling hand to hold my head against his chest. I grinned against him, nipple tight between my teeth, tongue flicking at the tip.

I reached down to stroke him and he pushed into it. I stroked, gentler than I knew he liked but uncomfortable going any harder with my dry hand. I could slide down and remedy that -- nothing dry about my mouth -- but when I started to shift my weight, his hand gripped briefly at my hair. He released the grasp almost as soon as I felt it, but I stayed anyway, biting and licking, switching from one nipple to the other. I sped up the movement of my hand despite my reservations, and he rewarded me by increasingly louder moans, thrusting his hips back and forth so his cock rocked into the cradle of my palm. "Come on," I said into his chest. "Come for me, baby."

The sound of his voice cut through me like a knife, and I pressed against his thigh as he shivered through an orgasm while I bit him, licked him, rubbed my lips and cheek against him. He collapsed back on the bed, rubbery with pleasure, grinning dopily from endorphins, but I was in no state for leisurely appreciation. I swiftly rubbed one hand though the come on his belly, then applied myself to my own cock. It wouldn't last as lubricant for long, but then I didn't need very long. Five strokes, seven, nine, _oh holy Mary mother of God_.

I collapsed on top of him, meeting his eyes with a matching dopey grin.

**Interlude:**

Harry couldn't hold back the contented sigh as he stepped down into his workroom. Teaching Molly was enlightening, and had vastly improved his own practice, but it was far from relaxing. With Molly at a scheduled Carpenter family day, he'd put aside an afternoon for quiet solo potion making.

He tossed a couple of paperbacks on to Bob's shelf. "Ooh," Bob said, the lights flickering on in his eyes. "Breaking Point and All through the Night! What's the occasion, Boss?"

"No occasion. Just a present."

"Seriously? Not a bribe to help you do something horrendously dangerous?"

Harry glared at Bob's skull. "It's a gift. Appreciate it."

"Oh, I do, I do!" The lights dimmed slightly, and one of the paperbacks flipped open. "Call me if you need anything," he said.

The first order of business was a potion for a young man whose employer had told him to give a presentation at his company's annual sales conference. The poor guy had paralyzing nervousness and shyness; he didn't want to cheat on the content, but he needed something to help him get through the talk: confidence and eloquence. A sort of Toastmasters in a bottle, as it were.

Harry assembled ingredients, taking comfort in the soothing ritual. He started with eight ounces of coffee for the base. A photograph of Michael Jordan, for sight. A recording of the "I Have a Dream" speech, for sound. For smell, Harry unwrapped a handkerchief he'd collected at a free Shakespeare in Chase Park production of couple of years ago: picnics and warm beer, grass, the other kind of grass. For taste, seven Tic Tacs. For spirit, an illustration of the Congressional Medal of Freedom. For touch, a bit of sandpaper. For mind, a book of inspirational speeches.

It wasn't that long ago since Harry wouldn't have attempted making potions without Bob's help, but now he operated primarily on autopilot. He mixed it all up, making careful notes so he could reproduce the recipe. When it was finished, he poured half of it into a tumbler and tossed it back. Making potions was simple, maybe, but still hit or miss, and Harry wasn't going to give an untried recipe to a vanilla mortal.

Feh. That tasted foul.

Now to see if it worked. Harry stood with his feet apart and his hands behind his back, as if he were declaiming something in a high school speech class, and started talking.

"I love giving head, to both women and men," he said. "I love putting my hands on a woman's thighs, pressing them apart, making room for my face. I love holding a woman's labia apart with my thumbs so I can see her, watch her clitoris swell from anticipation before I ever touch it. I love that first taste of her as I lick her clit. I love the explosion of moisture when she comes." He stopped, his face appalled, and slapped his hand over his mouth.

The orange lights in Bob's skull were so bright they were yellow, almost white. "Uh, Boss? Not that I mind, but what was _in_ that potion?"

Harry warily removed his hand from his mouth. "Nothing that should have done _that_." He went back to his notes and shakily read out the ingredients and proportions.

Bob listened in silence until Harry got to the end. "Boss," he said. "Would you mind telling me _which_ book of inspirational speeches you used?"

"101 Speeches by famous Americans Which Will Inspire You. It was in that pile I brought home from the freebies box at the library to stock the ingredients shelf."

"Er. Oops?"

" _Oops?_ "

Bob's words came out in a rush. "Possibly maybe your apprentice has been kinda hiding her porn down here?"

Hell's bells. Harry didn't even know that Molly had porn, and hadn't he warned her off solo experimentation? According to Bob, something called Herotica 7 had been in the slip cover for 101 Speeches by famous Americans Which Will Inspire You. When Harry looked, he found a plain brown shape slipped in behind the rest of the books: the unjacketed book he'd intended to use in the recipe. Skimming quickly through the bookshelf, he found equally secreted copies of Wet and Bareback Cowboys.

He really didn't want to know.

"To be fair," said Bob, sounding tentative. "She hasn't been doing it since you started teaching her potion making and she learned what the books were for. She's probably just forgotten that she hid the porn down here way back when. And besides, would you want to leave porn in her father's house?"

Harry turned to Bob to yell at him for not telling him. "I love when someone sucks on my balls," he said. "I love that moment of breath before I feel anything, and then the rough dampness of a tongue. I love the pressure. When I feel that first touch of warm, wet heat I want to come. I can't decide if I want the person sucking to move forward and suck my cock or back to lick my ass. I want three mouths at once, getting me everywhere. Gah!" He shoved his fist into his mouth to stop the torrent of words.

"... Wow." Was it possible for a spirit of air and intellect to sound breathless?

"Hell's bells," Harry said aloud. He leaned against the wall and ran his right hand through his hair. "What am I going to do now?"

"You could stay here until the potion wears off," Bob said. "I don't mind if you feel chatty."

Harry groaned. "No, I can't. Molly will be over when she's done with her family dinner, and no way am I risking the chance that I talk to her like this. Even if it is her fault." He started cleaning up from his potion making, putting his notes away. "I have to go for a drive, get away from people until it wears off."

"Aww, Boss," whined Bob. "You realize this is the chance of lifetime for me."

"Tough shit," Harry said. "I'll see you later."

At first he drove aimlessly around Chicago in the Beetle, just thankful for the quiet. After a few blocks, the low muttering he was hearing resolved into words. His own words, in fact; without realizing it, Harry had started to speak, filling the car with words. _I want to suck John's cock. I want to hold it in my cheek, to rub my tongue against it. I want to come with John holding me down and my mouth full of his cock, and then I want him to fuck my mouth some more._

It was becoming increasingly difficult to drive.

The trouble was that nothing he'd been saying was untrue, per se, and hearing the words out loud coming out of his own mouth was arousing him to the point of pain. He needed to go somewhere where he could walk it off. Usually he'd go to Thomas in a situation like this, but in this particular instance that would be both unwise and cruel. He couldn't go to a public place, and the Carpenters and Murphy were out for obvious reasons. Thank goodness he had a key to John's place. He turned the Beetle toward the Gold Coast.

**Part two:**

Lengthy meetings with my lawyers were a necessary part of my business. Still, it was deadly dull to verify my construction contracts correctly gamed the city's low-bid procurement rules while minimizing legal obligations. It was no hardship to call for an early break when Hendricks texted me that Harry had unexpectedly arrived at the mansion. No obvious wounds, according to Hendricks, and there were no reports of unexplained explosions in the city, so it was just a social call.

I was _definitely_ in the mood for the kind of social call Harry Dresden had been making lately.

I felt no shame in calling an early halt to my day and heading back to the house. I didn't hear anything untoward as I hung my coat in the foyer closet. "Honey, I'm home," I called, hoping it would make Harry laugh. A laughing Harry was sometimes less difficult to trip into bed. "Harry?" I heard him call something from the second-floor living room, so I started up the stairs.

He appeared at the top of the stairs before I was two thirds of the way up. "Stars, John," he said without preamble. "I need to suck your cock. I need you in my mouth, you have no idea how much. I want to swallow you down, seriously, I so much need you to come in my mouth right now. You have no idea."

I stumbled back several steps, catching myself on the banister. "Who are you?" I asked. "Where's Harry?"

"What?" The figure looked witlessly confused, in perfect imitation of Harry. " _I’m_ Harry."

I fumbled in my pocket for the Ms. Gard's anti-glamour charm. The figure on the stairs didn't change appearance, but that might just mean the spell wasn't faerie work. He looked sharply at the charm in my hand and raised both eyebrows in a perfect imitation of Harry's "reluctantly impressed" face.

"I get it," he said. "No, seriously, it's me. Not possessed, just an embarrassing potion accident, which you should know, because if I weren't me how would I have gotten through the wards without tripping something?"

It was a good point; Gard had only recently (and reluctantly) adjusted the mansion's protections to allow Harry through without me accompanying him, and no shapeshifter or possessed Dresden would have made it through her magical moat and portcullis without at least one of my alarms going off. "What kind of potion accident?" I asked, wary.

He leered, and even through my justified paranoia it went straight to my cock. I've never seen that expression on him before, and moreover, he was positively _prowling_ down the stairs as he walked. "Accidental potion of Phone Sex Operator, as far as I can tell. Dear  Penthouse, you'll never believe what I have to tell you. It all started when my Mafia kingpin boyfriend let me put my tongue in his ass."

God. I was so hard I hurt. Nevertheless, when Harry was only a couple of steps above me -- towering ridiculously over me, of course -- I put out one hand to stop him.

"You ingested this potion by accident," I said, holding myself back from him by sheer force of will. His height combined with the differential provided by the stairs put my face rather too close to temptation. "Are you here by your own free will?"

That clueless look again. "Er, yes?"

"But the potion is making you act in ways you can't control."

He rolled his eyes. "No, the potion is making me _say_ things I can't control. The rest of me is just fine."

I closed my eyes, hoping for patience. "You are choosing to be here and be with me, even though you aren't choosing the manner in which you spend time with me? Pardon me for finding that pedantry."

"No, seriously," said Harry. "Nobody cast a love spell on Cordy's necklace. I'm here because I want to be, Xander. Specifically, I want to be on my --"

 

I cut him off desperately. "Are you here by your own goddamn free will, Harry Dresden?"

Realization hit. His gaze softened. "Thrice you ask and done," he said, quietly, and folded to sit on the staircase. "Yes, John Marcone, I am here of my own free will." That sappy grin made him look ridiculous.

I exhaled sharply, feeling a knot I had barely recognized unravel in my chest. I was glad there was no mirror around; it wasn't good for my self image for me to see myself sharing any potential ridiculous expressions.

Then Harry slid forward on the step and rubbed one knee against the crotch of my trousers. "Can we please have sex now?"

**Part three:**

I remember dragging him to the bedroom, but the details are lost in the litany of filth, each word going straight to my dick. "I want to put my tongue in you," he was saying. "I want to spread you apart and hold you down and lick you once, just once, so you know what's coming. I want to bite you on the ass, make a mark, suck a hickey into the top of your thigh before I go back to rimming you. I want to lick you until you're whimpering, I want to stick my tongue inside you, fuck you with it until my face is sore, and keep on going until you're hoarse from yelling. And I want you to blow me, I want you to let me grab your hair and hold your head still. I want to put you on the floor and making kneel at my feet while I fuck your face, I want to feel your throat around my cock, stars and stones, John, I want you to smack my ass until I come just from the feeling of you whaling on me. I want you to do it with a _paddle_."

I shoved him against the edge of the bed and he fell, fully dressed. "Pick one," I grated. Ridiculously, he was suddenly silent. He stared at me, pupils blown. "God dammit, pick just one, one thing we can do now. Pick _now_."

Yeah. Apparently my patience was not at top form.

"Oh," he said. And then, comprehension coming to him as slowly as always, "... _oh_. Okay. One, right. I want to blow you --"

I cut him off. "Not that." The look on his face was priceless. How often did I turn down a blow job? "No blow jobs, no gags. Nothing that stops you from talking."

His eyes widened, but he didn't pause for long. "Then the other. Suck me. Put your mouth on me."

I was on my knees almost as soon as the request was made, and I reached up to undo his jeans, but he stopped me with his words.

"Not yet," he said. "Tease me. Put your mouth against my thigh, on the inseam. Kiss me, bite me. Blow through the denim."

It took a beat before I obeyed, not because I didn't want to. Instead I was floored by lust, like a shot to the lungs that knocked the breath from my body. When I could, I leaned forward, put his words to action.

"Hold me down, spread my legs," he said, and I pressed my hands against the insides of his knees and splayed his ridiculously long legs apart. "Yeah, like that, keep me off balance, don't let me get up, don't let me take control, stars, take my pants the hell off right now."

I didn't, not right away. If he wanted teasing, it was going to last a little bit longer. I breathed against the zipper of his jeans, rubbing my cheek against the hard line of his cock. He tried to press his thighs inward, perhaps to stop me, but I shoved hard against his knees, keeping him off balance. His instructions had reverted to a breathy stream of _dammit, John, dammit, undress me_ before I finally gave in. "Lift up your bony ass," I said, interrupting him, as I pulled down his jeans.

He laughed, obeyed, and continued talking without pause. "Lick me. Lick up the vein, around the base. I want to feel your tongue, I want to feel your tongue under my foreskin, on the head. Lick the slit, lick behind my balls."

Dresden as lollipop? I could live with that. I obeyed him, now doing only what he told me and no more. Let Harry have the creativity for once.

Apparently he was up to the challenge. "My balls, John. Suck on them, both of them. Rub my cock while you do. Yeah, keep doing that. Play with the foreskin with your thumb, squeeze harder." He thrust up into my hand. "Put your mouth on me, around my cock."

About damned time. I took advantage of the brief moment of having both of my hands free to unzip my own trousers and shove them down around my hips; I couldn't bear to have them on any longer. I almost got my own cock in hand but Harry had more instructions before I got a chance.

"My nipples," he almost whined. "Play with them." It was hard to reach them -- Harry was sprawled, lying mostly down against my comforter, and the man was a long drink of water. But I was sufficiently motivated. I could feel the stretch and burn in my shoulders, but that only ratcheted me higher, like Harry was restraining me with his words, like he'd built a rack out of language and had me strung on it.

Harry was struggling for words. His hips were trembling, tiny thrusts into my mouth and out again, his balls drawn up against my chin, and his breaths were coming short and loud. He should have been beyond anything other than moaning, but it sounded like the words were forcing themselves passed his lips. I obeyed each of his increasingly hoarse commands, the sound of his voice all that was touching me, all that needed to.

"Twist my nipples, harder. Use your nails, pinch. Hold down my hips -- no, with your forearm, press harder, don't let me move, bruise me. Put your finger in my ass, two fingers. I don't care that there's no lube, use freaking spit, just get them in there, do it, do it. Hold me down, suck me down, John, hold me, John, John --!"

His desperate wail somehow still consisted of coherent words, but I couldn't make them out. I swallowed him down, waited until he stopped shivering, and then lunged onto his supine form, thrusting against him until I came.

**Part Four:**

I panted while awareness slowly returned. We were both almost entirely dressed, my shirt and Harry's both sticky with come. Reluctantly I sat up to remove my own clothing and help Harry out of his. As I pulled off his T-shirt, I strained to make out the words he was whispering. It wasn't until we were both nude and lying together on the bed -- God, the feel of his skin against mine -- that I could comprehend the low, steady mutter.

"-- you to tie me up," he was saying, low and exhausted. "I want you to put a plug in my ass. I want to put a collar on you and smack you until you come. I want a threesome, I want to watch you fuck Carlos, I want to watch Gard peg you, I want to put on a dress without underwear and have you take me dancing. I want --" His voice was rushed and unhappy, thick with a miserable need. It broke something in me, his lust-ridden voice from five minutes ago transmuted to this.

"Harry," I said. He stopped talking, but wouldn't meet my eyes. "Is the potion making you say things you don't want me to hear? I can leave the room."

He shrugged, but stayed balled up stiffly in my arms, hunched in a way which must have been uncomfortable. "No," he said at last.

I thought fast. If I didn't keep him talking, Harry would revert to his spoken pornography, and the misery it was creating in him was clearly unacceptable. If necessary, I would distract him by talking about something else: the political situation, the White Council, anything. Preferable, though, would be resolving the underlying problem.

I had to _think_. He'd answered a single "no" to a question with multiple clauses. Was it that he didn't want me to leave the room? He _did_ want me to hear those words? The potion wasn't making him say them? Or -- _oh_ \-- all three.

"The potion's wearing off," I said.

He nodded, and tucked his head against my chest so I couldn't see his face.

"You think you'll never be able to ask for specific sexual acts again."

This time he didn't move or make a sound. He just lay still, knees curled in against his body and holding him further away from me than I wanted, breathing fast against my chest. I brushed back his sweaty hair and kissed his temple, then pulled the comforter over us both.

"Hey, you." I spoke gently, as soothingly as I could. "You know I'll always listen, right? You saw how much I enjoyed... listening." He didn't become any less tense. So it wasn't my reaction to his words that was the problem. "You could make more of the potion whenever you wanted," I suggested. "If you remember the recipe."

This prompted a response, finally. He snorted a muffled laugh. "That would be irresponsible."

"Oh, and you're the king of responsibility. You light so many buildings on fire we should call you Mrs. O'Leary's cow."

"Bite me, Marcone," he said, finally looking up. Bingo. Anything to make him stop this distant unhappiness. "There's a difference between collateral damage while trying to stop vampires from killing people and making a potion that makes me... Well."

I shifted to look into his eyes. He had more practice than anyone I'd met at avoiding eye contact, but I'm accustomed to getting what I want. "What's so irresponsible about knowingly making and ingesting a potion that allows you to say things you want to be able to say?"

He glared. "It breaks the Laws --"

"Bullshit," I interrupted. "I've read those laws, and there's nothing in them about consensual drug use, and that's effectively what were talking about. An aphrodisiac which you would take with full knowledge of the consequences."

"And of course you would have no problem with drug use," he said, sneering at me.

My Pavlovian reaction to Harry Dresden being intensely irritating was for me to become proportionally aroused. "That's accurate enough," I said, refusing to fight with him about it. "There wouldn't be any addiction problems or other side effects?"

"What?" I had derailed him from the argument he was expecting. "No, shouldn't be. It's a magical potion, not heroin."

"So." I used my hands and legs to coax his body toward more relaxed shape that fit against mine, pushing down his knees and pulling his torso up against mine. "Think about it. Maybe you'll decide you can make the potion again. Maybe you'll decide you don't want to. Maybe --" _please please please_ "-- you'll decide it's worth trying to talk through sex _without_ using the potion." I kissed him swiftly on the mouth. "Just talk to me about it, and we'll make it work."

His lips twisted, but he looked perhaps a little less unhappy. "You want this."

The heavens must have opened, because Harry Dresden just noticed something blazingly obvious. "I want what you want," I said, and it was just as true as what he'd said.

His body finally relaxed with an all-over shudder, and he pressed his lips against mine for a kiss that was soft, slow, and rich with something not at all sexual. When he finally drew back, he was smiling ever so slightly. "We'll talk about it," he said.

"That's all I want," I said, and it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme prompt: _So Harry gets hit with a spell/takes a potion *handwave* that makes him really hot for it. So he goes to his established partner and is all, "ha, so funny thing happened to me today, how about a roll in the sheets?"_
> 
>  
> 
> _Except the spell/potion/whatever has made Harry much more demanding and vocal about what he wants. he previously hasn't been very communicative in bed, and what I'm after is Harry being suddenly very clear and assertive -- touch me like this, pinch my nipples, I want to eat you out, whatever it is. And his partner completely blown away and loving hearing all of that from him._
> 
>  
> 
> _Don't care who his partner is [...] and don't care what it is Harry is asking for. Would just love a fill about how hot it makes them both to clearly talk about the things Harry wants._
> 
>  
> 
> Dirty talk is really hard for me to write, more so than porn, even. So I was channelling Harry's misery and embarassment in this fill.


End file.
